


Maybe I don't want Heaven

by Eturni



Series: My world is ending [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Major Character Undeath, Multi, No Betas We Fall Like Crowley, blasphemy right to God's face, history through the lens of wikipedia, or more accurately angelic not-bodies that are very weird, unbury your queers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 13:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eturni/pseuds/Eturni
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have been completely destroyed in the months following the Notapocalypse and find themselves somewhere beyond the usual spaces of Heaven and Hell. There's a lot to be considered trapped somewhere away from the rest of existence but God isn't quite done with her most interesting angel and demon yet.A resurrection fic following The world is ending (but my whole world is you). There's a flashback of Aziraphale's death but Crowley plays his hands close to his chest about how he got there so it should be readable without having read the other fic. There may be gaps, however.





	Maybe I don't want Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [memprime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/memprime/gifts).

> This is the completely non-canonical secret ending to The world is ending (but my whole world is you).  
I think I may have broken a few too many people and there needed to be a fluffly nobody dies option, requested specifically by Memprime. Luckily Deus Ex Machina is a readily available excuse in the Good Omens universe.
> 
> So have some painful fluff and slightly better resolution.

If I’m losing a part of me I don’t want Heaven

The principality Aziraphale was unspooling into light and ideas, agitated and fluttering among the bright nothing that surrounded him. His consciousness crept out slowly, tendrils searching for anything other than himself and a thousand eyes seeing nothing but a blank white that was completely impenetrable and yet that he kept expanding into. Time here was much like Before Eden – Aziraphale might have been there for eternity or for only a moment.

He had a feeling that he was Waiting for something, but the _what_ of it wouldn’t come to him no matter how the bright fire of him wound itself in knots trying to chase it. There was one thing that he did know for sure though. Every moment of his existence here was filled with grief and worry, the taste of it acidic.

His last memory was of Crowley, his poor demon, suffering through his last moments of life with him. Aziraphale felt so guilty leaving him alone that way.

_Stay with me. Say it again. Please._

_You promised._

The grief finally found form, a noise released from Aziraphale that was at once as low as the whoosh of air in a back-draft and as high as the screech of dial up internet connecting.

He remembered. The taste of Crowley’s panic and desperation and  _love_ sharp and bright through his form. The ghost of pain from the  projectile burning in his corporation’s chest and spreading agony that was at once freezing and burning as it ate away at his essence.

_It was three in the afternoon and Aziraphale had been settling in with a cup of cocoa after closing his shop having had quite enough interlopers for one day. He had been reaching out to pick up his book when the calm of the shop was broken by the sound of a shattering window and a sudden burning pain in his chest._

_His eyes cast about the room. Broken window. The hint of feathers flying away. His hand came back from the waistcoat stained with golden blood. Aziraphale surged to his feet, intending to get to his phone, get help, but the next beat of his unnecessary heart set his veins boiling and he collapsed to the floor with the pain of it, the dull thud of books accompanying him as he tried to clutch hold of them to keep his footing._

_He wasn’t certain how long the agony had burned through his veins for when he finally heard a voice that would have made him sob with relief if he could find the breath for it._

“_Aziraphale? What happened? _ Shit _ what’s going on?”  There were  hands  on him, trembling  but firm and Crowley’s beautiful, clever eyes were casting about him fretfully. _

_He took a breath to try to speak when one press of hands pushed the thing deeper and it caught, like nails scratching on metal, against the essence of him. He tried to bite back a whimper of pain and was certain he’d failed as he saw the gold in Crowley’s eyes eclipse any white. _

_He tried again to catch a breath, moved an arm up against the source of the pain as both warning and assistance. His arm felt so leaden he very nearly didn’t make it but then his dear, sweet demon’s hand was eclipsing his and he knew he had seen. _

“_Shit, okay. I’m going to fix this.” Crowley’s voice came as a croak but Aziraphale did manage a brief smile. Even with the way the pain was beginning to eat at him Crowley’s voice made it easy to believe. Crowley who had stopped time and pushed his beloved Bentley through a ring of negative energy to save the world._

_He could almost taste the fear, perhaps it was his own blood, as Crowley snapped his fingers, demonic energy surging around them. The _ thing _ in him moved deeper and Aziraphale couldn’t bite down on the cry. The panic. He realised, very suddenly and quite clearly, that deeper wasn’t into his corporation but into the _ essence _ of him._

_The world faded out for a second as the fire took to the edges of his being. He finally managed the faintest squeeze back to Crowley’s hand. “My dear, I think this is it.”_

“_No, you can’t. They won’t give you another body.”_

“_Feels mortal. Feels… more.” Aziraphale struggled to get enough breath, enough life, into the body to speak. Crowley needed to know, to understand the gravity. He was already becoming less._

_ Crowley’ s face twisted, hand convulsing, and for a moment Aziraphale was overcome .  The air around him shimmered with determination and with love. The kind of millennia deep love that only came from Crowley. “ _ No _ .” _

_And who was he to deny that? The tidal wash of devotion that fit itself against his grace and momentarily dulled the burning pain. “It’s down to the soul. Gabriel-” Aziraphale stopped, realising what he was about to suggest. The archangel might know a way to help but there was no way he _ would _. They were alone here. Their side._

_And, oh, but wasn’t it just awful? His consciousness drifted as Crowley yelled at someone. Clever demon always on his side. He’d finally accepted it, finally stopped pushing against the warm swell of love that cocooned him whenever Crowley was near, and suddenly it was too late._

“_M_ ove fast! And you stay with me. You’re not going anywhere.”  Crowley’s voice was a determined  hiss  and Aziraphale realised there were tears. The tracks of pain and love and desperation marking their way down  Crowley’s face.

_ A ziraphale looked up at  him and even  though the  haze of pain  drowned words and blurred the world at the edges; even though the thing devouring his grace and his essence tried to rip apart everything he was, even despite all that he could feel  Crowley’ s love. It was a gentle blanket lulling him and an insistent hand pulling him back above the water at the same time. Aziraphale was dying, just when they had finally found themselves together and it wasn’t fair.  “Not enough… time.” He sighed out.  He’d thought they had all the time in the world. _

_The demon’s voice pitched up as he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand again, hard enough to hurt but for the pain in his essence making everything else negligible.“No! Stay with me! I… say it again. You promised.”_

_ Aziraphale’s lips twitched up in the best smile he could manage and he reached up, slow and painful, to touch Crowley’s cheek. The demon gripped hold of it, pressed it against the wetness of his cheek. “I love you.” The sound was barely there, like being passed through  a sea of stars to reach him. _

“_I love you too. You have to stay.” Crowley sobbed, honestly sobbed and even though he knew his essence was fading he wished, suddenly, with everything in him, to stay. If only for his Crowley, if only to stop his pain._

_The world darkened further at the edges as he struggled to see his dear love. And then there was white._

As the wail erupted from the base of his being Aziraphale thought of Crowley. In every iteration that he had seen him. Always changing and yet always, unmistakably, the serpent of Eden – harsh angles and bright fire and fluid in every way that could be thought of.

The thought of that tangible, corporeal truth finally started to ground Aziraphale, draw him back into his own being as he rolled over the worries once more. His bright essence knotted and rolled the same way his hands would fidget until it started to feel more like actual hands than pure idea and consciousness.

He focused, trying to condense the forever of his existence down to a moment of _now_. It was difficult in a space where every moment of existence was happening concurrently.

Things slowly started to move, pulling him in towards himself as he thought of earth and of six millennia and of the love that he had left behind. There was an instinct in there, to curse himself for starting to relax and think that they were safe. For daring to dream of a world where they could just _be_ together.

After a moment, though, it seemed so fruitless to start cursing it now with nothing that he could do any longer to fix it. As hands slowly started to form, something a little more human compacting his form, Aziraphale looked down at them sadly and thought of all there was still left to do. The very important person he left behind that he was supposed to be holding forever.

In the midst of the white, endless nothing something moved.

Several of Aziraphale’s eyes swivelled to track it. The black was stark against the eternal backdrop, the red far too familiar. The newly made edges of Aziraphale’s more human-looking form vibrated with excitement, threatening to come loose and release his essence once again but the principality held firm.

He was moving almost instantly, stretching himself out and trying to walk like a person at the same time so that he could hold the other again as quickly as he could wrap any part of his form around his demon.

A moment, an eternity, _something_ later he realised what Crowley’s presence here meant and the wave of grief was again almost too big for the new form to contain. He felt it tighten around his leaden limbs, guilt joining the pressing force and rendering him immobile and breathless as Crowley swivelled in place, eyes full gold and searching out something with desperate terror.

_Fire had been raging it’s way through London for two days and wasn’t looking to stop any time soon. At this point Aziraphale was moving on autopilot. He bent to gently urge a child to one side right before a few fire fighters came muscling their way through, having abandoned the sled that carried their engine streets back. He’d spent far too much time trying desperately to call the tensions between the growing mobs and the poor French and Dutch settlers. Tempers were running as hot as the firestorm twisting above the city and Aziraphale couldn’t help but think that peoples’ worst natures were winning out as easily as the flames were._

_It was in this fugue state that Aziraphale distantly became aware of someone calling his name. He blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his head as the shouting and crashing and the damnable roar of the fire came back to him in full. _

_He turned, heart lurching as he recognised Crowley’s voice. He wasn’t sure whether he was worried that the demon had a hand in this or just so pleased to know that he wasn’t asleep somewhere in one of the houses getting discorporated. When he turned the demon was looking at him from across the street, slightly dishevelled and everything about his gaze pinned entirely on the angel._

_The glasses slipped and for a moment as Crowley tilted his head to look at him Aziraphale could see eyes of almost full gold, pupils a harsh, thin line of black. He looked shaken, searching, terrified for a brief second that somehow stretched long between the two of them and as it did the scratch of panic that had been driving Aziraphale on finally started to fade._

_Then Crowley was moving, striding towards Aziraphale as though the crowds of fleeing people weren’t there at all. And they did all happen to find themselves not in the demon’s path as he approached. Crowley’s arms came up, hands twitching as though he were about to grab the angel’s shoulders before he seemed to think better of it and let his arms drop limply to his sides._

“_Where the Heaven were you, you idiot? I thought-” Crowley shook his head roughly, pushing the glasses back up to make sure he was protected. His voice was thick and scratched by smoke._

“_My dear boy, stop breathing, you’re going to get smoke in your lungs.” He admonished softly. “I’m here, I’m well, I’ve been trying to help people out of the gates. It’s just been such a horror from start to finish.”_

“_Yeah but-” Crowley swallowed but it didn’t seem to move the low note to his voice. “I thought you were at bloody St Paul’s didn’t I? Didn’t see you come out.”_

“_Hm? Oh no, yes, I’ve been sending people along that way. Honestly the way it’s going best for them to be out of the city altogether. But no, there’s been so much fuss on the streets here and you know how it is when a crowd gets worked up.” Aziraphale wrung his hands together nervously. “And, well, there are children aren’t there? Always underfoot in these situations. And, well, I didn’t know if you were _in_ London, my dear, but I knew that if you _were_ that you would want- well, not that it matters as a demon, but certainly that as an angel I should be watching out for the children.”_

_Aziraphale hadn’t realised quite how much he’d been rambling until he was struck by love; so forcibly that he almost rocked back on his heels. It wrapped him up, coiling around the angel like a snake and when Aziraphale looked up again Crowley was determinedly _ not _ looking at him at all._

“_Well, yeah. Your job and all that. But look, angel...” Crowley grit his teeth and looked off into the distance. _

_That feeling of love gripped him tighter and Aziraphale was glad he’d stopped breathing about a day ago. There was something mixed in among it that Aziraphale couldn’t quite place but the firm pressure of love lulled him a little for the first time in days and took the ragged edges from his exhaustion. Oh how he’d missed this demon, even if there was no way he would dare say it aloud._

“_St Paul’s went up.” Crowley continued grudgingly, holding up a hand when Aziraphale immediately started trying to speak. “Most of the people got out alright I think but… whole bloody roof crashed in and… angel they were keeping all the printing stuff and books down in the crypt.”_

_Understanding washed over the angel. He knew his face must have shown it for the way that Crowley made another aborted attempt to reach out, hands clutching at air uselessly before dropping back. The reason Crowley had thought he was there, trapped in a church where the demon couldn’t reach, was because of the books. He had been there for the books, for Aziraphale, and seen the whole thing catch alight and crumble in on itself. He felt so full of that love in one instant that he felt a stinging at the back of his eyes that was nothing to do with the heat or the loss of the cathedral._

“_Well the people are safe, at least. Thank you for thinking to tell me.” He nodded tersely, not certain himself what to do with all of this. Crowley, of all the people on Heaven and Earth, knew him so well. It was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure_

Aziraphale stretched and twisted, took steps and pressed forward and very quickly found that he was getting no closer to Crowley. He grit his teeth, writhing and reaching so hard that he thought he may tear himself apart as he tried to got to where his demon was. He had no clue of how much time had passed and guilt swirled in him, thick dark tendrils of smoke among the light of his essence.

It could have been years, centuries on Earth. Crowley may have been killed because of the second shot at the Apocalypse, or the collapse of the sun. He could have been living on without him for millennia more and either had the chance to heal or have felt that he was missing something inside of him the whole time, as Aziraphale had here. He might have been murdered by an assassin in the shadows moments after watching Aziraphale die.

The angel wasn’t certain which would be worse but he knew that he _needed_ to be at Crowley’s side, both now and for every not moment that stretched before them.

He was _still. No. Closer_.

Crowley was still looking around, still searching and yet every time he looked in Aziraphale’s direction his gaze seemed to skip over him, like it refused to acknowledge the space the angel occupied.

The space where Aziraphale’s chest and throat had formed up tightened and flooded with the acid burn of fear. Almost immediately his form went slack as his energy was taken up with his thoughts whirring, the soft hum of it passing through his form like the echo of a bell.

What if this was his punishment? _Their_ punishment?

Angels and demons certainly didn’t go to Heaven or Hell but certainly _something_ had happened after his passing. Was he now to have a timeless existence of this? Trapped in place and watching his beloved demon think himself alone and abandoned all over again?

No. No, anything but that. If this was going to be his eternity, apart but aware of it the entire time, Aziraphale would do anything to prevent Crowley suffering through it. Crowley, who had always been there for him, always at his side when he needed it, didn’t deserve this for wanting nothing more than the survival of Her favourite creatures.

He also knew with a certainty how completely Crowley loved him and how little it would mean to him to have more life without Aziraphale. He would tear himself apart to be there by his side; to stop whatever this was from being the rest of their existences.

If they could return to life together… Even if he could just finally close this gap and hold Crowley in his arms again, Aziraphale would do just about anything. He would surely consider tearing his grace out of his body himself if it meant the chance to pack that hollow space full, overfull to bursting, with every last moment he could spend with his demon.

Aziraphale would remove his certainty, the warm reassurance of it always in the background, and know that Crowley would always be there with his actions and gentle touches and that he would make it be enough if he could only close this distance.

He cried out again, louder as he started to thrash once again and lose control of what corporal form he’d previously packed himself into. The cries were words trembling and climbing over each other; clashing in the air. They were please and God and _Crowley_ and love and help and anything else he could think to pray for in that moment to only be given that chance.

_Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s affection as they sat together in a private booth of a very nice little restaurant in Islington. This love was a warm, possessive thing that Curled about his shoulders like Crowley throwing a casual arm around him. These days the tenderness of Crowley’s feelings were a constant presence around him but it made it no less special when it swelled and made itself more prominent as it was doing now._

_Crowley waited, almost coiled, for the server to get close before asking again for those words._

“_I love you.” Aziraphale intoned in fond exasperation, reaching out to place his hand over the other’s._

_Crowley lit up from the inside, like a beacon of a more divine feeling than Aziraphale had felt from other angels in thousands of years, though his face barely moved except to twitch into a smug smile. The waiter fair lit up too and Aziraphale could feel relief and a renewed belief that men like him could be happy and out in public for years. While neither he nor Crowley were_ _exactly men in the traditional sense he wouldn’t have taken that sense of security from the young man for anything._

Crowley came back to consciousness with the metallic taste of radiant flame still tainting his mouth and an ache in his chest that could have easily been from the blade piercing him as it was for Aziraphale’s absence.

The space around him was white and stark. Not in the minimalist way his flat was and not in the cold, clinical way of Heaven. It was more like a _lack_ of anything, like the void of space but brighter, it felt like something was Missing. Like he was Waiting.

Initially the demon thought that he was alone and felt a small lurch in his stomach even though he wouldn’t be truly surprised to find that he wasn’t sent to the same place as his precious angel after ceasing to exist. What this might be, however, was completely beyond him.

His eyes eventually spotted another among the nothing that surrounded. They had been almost indistinguishable initially; all light, parchment, bright eyes and an ever shifting inner core. But the core itself at least gave small amounts of colour and form. And the eyes, all of them, were a blue that Crowley couldn’t have forgotten if he’d lived a billion more years and never seen them again.

“Aziraphale!” He called, impossibly pleased for all of a moment until he realised that the sound of his voice had been deadened and that the angel hadn’t so much as wiggled a word in his direction.

He called again, a little more strained as his angel seemed to rapidly switch between trying to form something human-looking and bursting outward into light. Keening cries made their way to Crowley as clearly as they would were the angel right by his side, despite the fact that his own voice barely seemed to reach his ears.

When he tried to move there was nothing beneath his feet to push against, only the emptiness that he was suspended in. Enough solidity to _feel_ as though he were standing in place but completely not present if he tried to move across it.

Crowley focused all of his energy on believing that there was a floor to step across, casting about for anything else that might be nearby to give him purchase. He could feel his breath coming quicker as the discordant cries from Aziraphale pitched low and mourning. Because _no_, he had failed to get to Aziraphale’s side once and never again would be let himself be too late to help the only worthwhile person in the world. The sentiment, it seemed, didn’t matter much when there was nothing and nowhere to help with the idea of movement.

There was also, he noted, no sign of any of the angels or demons that he’d massacred on his way out.

Maybe it was only an illusion then. One designed to torment him. Surely Aziraphale didn’t deserve anything like this and Crowley well knew the torture of living close to his angel and never being allowed to reach out. He’d had 6,000 years of it, and would have no choice but to suffer more if this was Her will, but surely _Aziraphale_ wouldn’t be put through the same?

Aziraphale hadn’t done anything to bring himself to this place. In all honestly Crowley’s head was slightly clearer in this place and he knew that a lot of the occult and ethereal beings that he’d destroyed in his pain hadn’t done anything really. He half hoped that they would all have something better, or at least a blissful nothing. Of course, the other half still felt a pit of rage at them all being pleasantly complicit in the need for a war that would destroy the earth and in the events that would lead to Aziraphale’s murder. As a demon the anger naturally won out and he didn’t waste much time on the fleck of guilt.

After all, whether that was truly Aziraphale or just something made to torture Crowley, the other had been murdered and he had deserved _so much better_ from everyone in his life. If Crowley could have done anything to bring life back to him, he would have done. If he could submit himself to torture and provide his beloved a modicum of respite he would do it gladly.

Crowley knew the truth of the hollow place in him. Even the force of Aziraphale’s love couldn’t overcome what She had taken when he Fell. The other’s words always filled him, left him rebuilt, like the broken cracks in himself were being filled in with the flood of it. The hollow centre of him, though, was like the devil’s kettle. He could almost feel himself light up with what Aziraphale gave so freely, the ragged edges of that place in him soothed but the centre was forever, unendingly cold and hollow. A black hole pulsing a reminder that he wasn’t truly capable of feeling love. It ate away greedily at every reassurance Aziraphale gave until he was there demanding more once again.

If he could have saved him, let Aziraphale live Crowley would give up every last one of those times – would bind himself to never hear the words again if that could be punishment enough for Her to leave him be.

Crowley felt love of a kind, he was sure, but he also knew that it could never be the kind of all encompassing love that Aziraphale gifted him. It made him pull back each time he thought to say the words. What he felt overwhelmed him sometimes but he knew it wasn’t enough.

_I am an angel. You are a demon._

_We may both have started out as angels, but _ you _ are fallen._

He may be incapable of true love but he would declare it anyway, loudly and without reservation. He felt it as well as any demon ever could and he would give all of that to his angel. All of his broken, unsteady pieces offered up freely.

For Aziraphale to live Crowley would, mortifying though it may be, go back to every one of those moments and say the words in return. Often enough for them to be meaningless. (Crowley didn’t actually believe this was possible. He’d sometimes teasingly asked for those words from his angel for hours on end and it had never lost the shine of that first surprising time.) For Aziraphale, though, he would _try_ to repeat them often enough for the meaning to be lost. He would admit to _nice,_ and _kind_ and _love_ and any other four letter label his angel cared to pin him with.

_Crowley had felt _ things _ for Aziraphale from almost the moment that he had met the angel on the walls of Eden. The moment that he knew the sword had been given away freely and knew that this ethereal creature was so completely unlike every other angel that came out of the same mould._

_The feelings changed and twisted for millennia. Their meetings were initially few and far between but they seemed to be gravitating closer despite the spread of humanity across the earth. Each time there was something new to find until the truth of what Crowley was feeling became too obvious to misunderstand any longer._

_The empire had been plunged into a period of mourning at Alexander the Great’s behest. Crowley himself rarely let himself get too attached to humans, their lives were so short, but he had been sent to monitor the growth of the Greek empire and Alexander was just one of those people who burned so brightly that Crowley couldn’t help but be drawn in._

_He had been there, seen, as Alexander had all but fallen apart over the body of Hephaestion on finding the other dead. He’d given himself over to the pain of it without any reservation no matter who he might be seen by. It had left Crowley with a slightly bitter taste in his mouth that he could never do something like that._

_Aziraphale found him there amidst the mourners. It was one of the few times that the angel had been the one to seek him out so far and the brightness of the other’s presence started to take some of the weight of sorrow from him even as he approached._

_It gave Crowley just enough time to be composed by the time Aziraphale got there. And still, _ still _ the angel looked at him like he could see beyond the glasses and into the soul of him. Into the complicated tangle at the heart of him._

“_You knew him well?” Aziraphale’s voice was just soft enough that Crowley thought for a second that he just may lose the control he had mustered._

“_Well enough I suppose.” He half-shrugged, trying for nonchalant despite the slight croak to his voice. “They meant a lot to each other. He’s the king so, you know, we do what’s expected.”_

_Aziraphale pursed his lips, looking even closer at Crowley, and finally let the words sit with a brief nod. “You wouldn’t mind if I stayed a short while? Seems that there’s a lot going on that may need intervention.” The angel shifted slightly closer._

_Crowley looked over to the other, eyes too kind to say that he was looking at a demon. He could almost see, over again, a wing lifting and shielding him from the first rain. Words rose unbidden into his throat. “I-” Crowley choked it back, swallowing like acid._

_I love you. It had seemed so easy, so natural. And yet, it was impossible. Unthinkable_

“_I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. Got a place to stay?” He said instead, trying for a wolfish grin that fell far short of it’s mark._

True to the eternal balance that they formed they had independently nullified each other once again. They each wanted to offer the most significant thing they could of their love to protect the other.

For Crowley, Aziraphale would give up his God given ability to sense love. To Know, in the burning core of his essence, the depth and breadth of what was in Crowley’s heart, to have it as a warm reassurance in the background as certain as the stars in the sky.

Crowley would rush to fill it back up with words he’d been afraid of even while his every action screamed the truth of them clearly.

In the nothing Someone smiled, and the angel and demon finally found themselves in the same space of time: eyes meeting and holding and _understanding_ that they were seen by each other.

Aziraphale who had been fighting, straining, scrambling, all but fell over his own essence as whatever was holding him back finally allowed movement. Every inch of him sang ecstatically in greeting as he hurtled towards his beloved demon.

The words that came from him weren’t so much words as intentions. _I love you. I’m sorry. I never meant to leave you. How long? Please. I meant to be there for you. I missed you. Why are you here?_

Crowley reached outwards, through or into, it was hard to tell, and let himself be completely consumed in the light and the brilliance of his angel. “Shh, it’s okay angel. I… I love you two. Whatever this is we’re here together. We’ll face it together. Can’t be sorry for that, can you?” He

_How long? I’m sorry. Never wanted this. Careless of me._

“Not long, not long at all. I know you didn’t but must have been my time. Ineffable and all of that bollocks, yeah? Whatever else, I’m here and so are you. I count it as a win.” He grinned recklessly into the light.

The  eyes stared back into him and then  Aziraphale’s whole form  t r embled faintly.  _Does it hurt? Please no._

There was an attempt to pull away and  Crowley couldn’t exactly take  _hold_ of a tangle of ideas and grace but he tried all the same. “It doesn’t. Don’t go. I wouldn’t care if it did right now. Aziraphale, you’re here  _with_ me. Everything else can sod off.”

Crowley was overcome with a feeling of fondness from  Aziraphale that  _felt_ like the smile the other would grace him with across the shop.

Heat prickled at the back of the demon’s eyes and he swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. They may be gone from the world but they were here  _together_ regardless.  _Their side_ . Even past the end of whatever their existences were.  He tried to look away, to hide from the ferocity of what was gripping him, but everywhere he looked was the angel all but surrounding him.

He tried to step away, give himself room for what was welling up inside of him, and was surprised when something stopped him again. There was something trying to constrict around him. It was gentle, in the way that only Aziraphale was, but it was determined and unmoving.

“Aziraphale?”

** Aziraphale. Crowley. **

The principality’s essence didn’t shift. His eyes were everywhere and so was the presence of God, so it didn’t seem to make a difference. “Yes, Almighty?” He didn’t let go of Crowley. For all of the times that the other had protected him, this was one thing that the angel didn’t want him having to face  unless he was ready.

_ The first time Aziraphale found Crowley talking to God he’d almost choked on his corporation’s tongue. _

“_He trusts You so much, You know! Even after all that with the Metatron and the ‘archangel fucking Gabriel’.” He bobbed his head mockingly but continued to watch the ceiling as if it meant anything. “Calls everything part of your ineffable Plan. And is it? All of this? Adam being better than both sides?” Crowley’s voice dropped almost reverently and Aziraphale felt a tentative mote of love shimmering the air around the demon. “Us?”_

_ The demon sighed and started pacing, eyes always upwards. “Are me and Aziraphale some ineffable thing you decided on? Is it just another punishment? You going to take him away from me when I stop watching? Could he Fall because of me?” _

_ Aziraphale held his breath slightly at the question. It was something he’d admit he still worried about sometimes. Most of the time, though, the thing he felt from Crowley and echoed in his own heart was so pure and fierce and fearless that he couldn’t imagine it being anything but blessed. _

“_He’s too good to be a demon, even if he’s fussy” there was a bright spark of warmth among the general low shimmer coming from Crowley “and greedy” spark “and oblivious” spark “and… a fucking glorious bastard.” The sparks finally caught into a warm glow that made Aziraphale’s chest swell with it’s answering echo. “I might not deserve him but I know You don’t either, what you’ve let him go through.”_

_ Crowley was up and pacing now, hips a staccato of annoyance. _

_ Aziraphale felt fear settle cold around him at that kind of challenge to the Almighty. But there was something swelling that was too close to pride, too. All of this fuss; protective, warm, righteous, just for him. No matter that Crowley would deny every word if it ever came up. _

_ Aziraphale decided to slip away and make some noise further away to make sure his entrance was known this time. _

** Where is the demon Crowley, Aziraphale, guardian of the Gate of Eden? ** The voice was lilting, teasing and Aziraphale fought not to tremble as he continued to guard his demon.

_ I.. Well, you see. I’m sure whatever this is is some terrible mistake. You see Crowley is actually quite kind and I’m certain… You know, well, of course You know but… If this is about preventing Armageddon it was certainly both of our responsibilities and I should say that perhaps I should be first to, as you say, face the music.  _ How a being of pure thought and energy conveyed so much restless energy and fidgeting was unclear but Aziraphale was very practised at this and managed regardless.

“Angel, what the Heaven are you doing?” Crowley hissed from inside his protective hold. “If She wants me then I’ll face Her. Don’t get yourself in trouble, you idiot.”

_ I don’t want you hurt any more. I love you. You watched for me. Let me do this. _

Crowley closed his eyes against the wave of  _ feeling _ that washed over him. He shook his head regardless. “We face it together. Our side, remember?” He whispered into the energy around him, feeling the ripple of a shiver throughout. And he was free from that hold.

_ He is here, Almighty. We both are. _

** You were killed for your actions with Adam Young. ** Crowley clenched his jaw and reached out for a hand that wasn’t there.  ** I am sorry that it hurt you so, though it would always be. **

Crowley blinked, finally, and started looking around again in disbelief. “Sorry? You? For anything?” There was a low hum of warning from Aziraphale as Crowley’s words went from almost hopeful to angry, passing only briefly into annoyed. Crowley was winding up, though, and there was little to stop him now.

“Well yeah, You should be! Aziraphale’s the best one You’ve got! He’s everything humans love about angels, and he did _everything_ he could for you and you all just wanted a war with bloody _Satan_ so badly you never cared who got hurt and what? Aziraphale has to pay for it? For being good and kind and watching them, and _loving_ them, like you told him to?!”

**What was I to do with the both of you? My Aziraphale, who would always love recklessly and without thought. Who would walk into danger and defy orders and never think to do anything other than what his conscience dictated. And Crowley, so full of free will that you would keep questioning no matter whose side you were on. You were the closest things to my humans before I made them and I needed you to be the ones left close and caring for them.**

C rowley held his breath and looked dead at some point in the distance. There was no way of knowing where She truly was so a staring competition with the void was the best he could manage.

“You made us that way.” He finally said, soft and perhaps a little bitter.

Aziraphale moved in close, did his best to hold and ground his demon. “We did what we thought we were supposed to do. What our consciences dictated. Mostly what we were supposed to do.” He reasoned, ignoring that a lot of the things his conscience allowed him could be seen as indulgences. 

** Demons aren’t supposed to invent or hope or love. And yet you loved so strongly that you dreamed of a world where he could love you back. Strongly  enough to bring it about.  You both had the places you were meant to.  There is room for you both here, unbothered if you wish it. Or you could return back. No one else need know you remain there after all that has happened. But I will expect you to remain until the end. To guard them. **

There was a hint of something like temptation in Her voice. Which was sacrilegious, but Aziraphale had spent several millennia now resisting Crowley’s temptations in one way or another and he was fairly certain he would know.

There was something important here laid before the both of them. The things that they had wanted from Her for so long. For Crowley an eternity of questions that would be answered by the only person who truly knew. For Aziraphale the reassurance that he had always needed: that doing what was good had always been his duty over doing what was Written. They could have it. A calm, peaceful eternity of them in this place.

Or they could go home. To books and plants and everything always changing. And Crowley changing most and least of all.

Crowley grinned to Aziraphale. “Your choice angel.”

“I quite think I’d like to go back. Never know what the humans will come up with next and there’s something so terribly disappointing about having what you thought you wanted.”

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right. We weren’t meant to stop changing, that would be boring.”

There was a hum that could be thoughtful or might simply be the background noise of worlds being shifted just slightly to the left. Aziraphale felt himself compressed down into something corporal again and reached out a hand without a second thought to find Crowley’s.

The other gripped him back like a lifeline.

The edges of the light pulled back to reveal the edges of a very well worn bookshop at a crossroads in Soho. Crowley’s presence was beside him, solid and real and he looked into the demon’s exposed eyes without reserve.

It was home.


End file.
